


Regarding Mating Behavior in Domesticated Cockatuosaurs

by PhoenixFalls



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Bird Behavior, Brownstone Menagerie, Crack, Gen, Masturbation, Pet Ownership - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/pseuds/PhoenixFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Come spring, Presbury begins displaying some unexpected behaviors...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regarding Mating Behavior in Domesticated Cockatuosaurs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Holocene Park](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2253183) by [sanguinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity). 



> so, like, once upon a time, I mentioned to sanguinity that I had a pet bird. sanguinity said she was going to prompt me presbury fic. i told her she better not, because i'd just write her presbury-masturbating fic. and, well, she did it, so...
> 
> Presbury is an original birdosaur character from sanguinity's fic Holocene Park, which is fantastic and involves Sherlock and Joan battling dinosaurs under Manhattan. This fic just involves Presbury deciding that Joan's pretty hot, and doing what feels good. No eggs were harmed in the making of this fic. Also, because when I worked at a pet store this seemed a common source of confusion, female birds _will_ lay eggs even if there are no male birds around; the eggs won't be fertilized, however, so while you can leave them for the bird to brood over in the hopes of satiating her natural urges, the eggs won't ever hatch.
> 
> There's a shout-out here as well to language_escapes' Presbury fic "[The Troubles in Raising a Cockatuosaurus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5025049). This ficlet was originally posted [on tumblr](http://phoenixfalls.tumblr.com/post/138266678119/because-i-cant-resist-a-game-of-chicken-so-to).

Looking back, it started sometime in the beginning of March. That was when Joan had to steal her sheet back from Presbury, who had secreted it behind the couch in the parlor.

The first time, Presbury had just taken the sheet and balled it up around her favorite cup. It needed a wash, but Joan didn’t mind terribly.

The second time, Presbury regurgitated some food on it, which Joan minded quite a bit more, but which still wasn’t such unusual behavior that it rang any bells.

The third time, Presbury completely shredded the sheet, and Joan was forced to take several calming breaths before she could control her voice enough to tell Presbury “No” in the firm, passionless voice that seemed to be the best deterrent for unwanted behavior. Joan had really liked that set of sheets.

After that, Ms. Hudson shifted the furniture a bit and Joan was able to keep her (new, inferior) sheet on her bed where it belonged.

Not long after that, Presbury started driving Sherlock away from Joan anytime all three of them were in a room together. Sherlock was incredibly affronted. It was hilarious, and Joan had to admit that she couldn’t resist giving Presbury a little extra affection when she came up to snuggle in Joan’s lap.

Now, her experience with swans had rather put Joan off of birds as a child, so she never had a pet parakeet or canary. She had done a little research into bird behavior since Sherlock brought Presbury home, but there was the question of how much she could extrapolate cockatoo behavior for a cockatuosaurus, and plenty of more pressing research for cases, so Joan had to admit that she had put the avian behavior books on the back burner. Presbury seemed happy enough, feathers in excellent condition, increasingly vocal, eager to play with any new toy (and plenty of things not designed to be toys).

But even Joan could tell something was up when Presbury started rubbing her vent on Joan’s closed fist.

Joan was curled on the couch with one of the old trunk cases when Ms. Hudson let herself in. Joan raised a hand in greeting and Presbury, who had been quite contentedly nuzzling into Joan’s sweater to that point, immediately scurried up the length of Joan’s arm and began circling, trying to find a purchase she liked.

Joan formed the fist absent-mindedly, wanting to give Presbury something more stable to cling to, and that was when Presbury started rubbing herself off on Joan. Her wings began an aborted little flutter not quite in time with her rubbing.

Joan stared, baffled. Ms. Hudson halted in her tracks and said, “Oh, dear.”

Joan transferred her quizzical look to Ms. Hudson. “What?”

Ms. Hudson was actually wringing her hands a little. “You should probably put Presbury down, Joan.”

“Why? Is something wrong with her?”

“Oh, no, it’s entirely natural! It’s just, well, I’m afraid you’re a little too much stimulation for her right now.”

“Stimula—oh!” Joan looked more closely at exactly which body part Presbury was rubbing against her, listened to the contented little cheeps she was making. “Oh! No! Presbury, that’s enough!”

Presbury continued her actions without pause. Joan looked back to Ms. Hudson pleadingly. “What do I do? How do I make her stop?”

Ms. Hudson turned quickly back the way she had come. Joan had a moment to be surprised that this was the moment too strange for her to continue their acquaintance; then Ms. Hudson was back, busily peeling a banana.

She waved it in front of Presbury until the cockatuosaurus caught a whiff and opened her eyes. Then when Presbury leaned forward to take a piece Ms. Hudson extended her own arm as a new perch, and deftly removed her from Joan’s fist. Presbury squawked “More!” and Ms. Hudson set her on one of the playstands before giving her the rest of the banana.

Joan stared down at her skin wondering vaguely if she needed to wash her hands, even though there didn’t seem to be any… fluids… involved.

“Was she really…?” Joan couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

Ms. Hudson clucked sympathetically. “I’m afraid so. I was hoping that by eliminating her nesting site I would be able to forestall that behavior, but she’s just at the age when her hormones start to go wild, and the lengthening day is a trigger we can’t do anything about.”

“What should we do?”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to do. Birds will do what birds will do, even if they’re part dinosaur. Just take away anything that she’s fixating on, and try to distract her if she starts using you as a sex toy.”

Over the course of that spring, Presbury laid five eggs. She brooded over them quite proudly until one suffered an unfortunate accident, rolling off of the table just in time to be stepped on by Sherlock. Then she took raucous delight in rolling the rest of them around until they, too, went splat.


End file.
